Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Racket Bracket, Day Three: Cavity-Inducing Musical Selections

Honestly, I'm feeling sort of lazy and not in the blogging spirit today, but I've got a tight schedule to keep. Luckily, today's selections are totally *~*~*inspirational*~*~*.

Take it away, "Believe" and "Grown-Up Christmas List"!

Believe



In a word: Believe. (Um...)

Select lyrics:
Believe in what your heart is saying
Hear the melody that's playing
There's no time to waste
There's so much to celebrate
Believe in what you feel inside
And give your dreams the wings to fly
You have everything you need
If you just believe
Defining characteristics: Admittedly awesome, chills-inducing intro (although they could cool it on the sleigh bells just a smidge), unbridled optimism, the Grobanator.

Evaluation: This is tough. I feel like I'm picking on that kid on the playground who's a real oddball but who would never hurt a fly. Christmas has made a bully out of me. This is sad. Luckily, here comes Josh Groban to help bolster my faith in myself with his smooth tenor sound and sweeping declarations of goodwill!

Seriously, though, my main issue with this song is that the lyrics sound like they could be on one of those inspirational posters with the black border and the stock photo in the middle. Here, I took the liberty of making one.

MichaelMaggs via Wikimedia Commons

According to this song, Christmas is the cure-all for general malaise as an adult. If you're feeling generally downtrodden and you're not sure why, the answer to your troubles is that it's probably not Christmas. Just saved you a hefty psychiatry bill. You're welcome.

Also, I have an inexplicable aversion to Josh Groban. I know the man is immensely talented and is probably a much better human being than I will ever be, but something about him just irks me. So maybe this one's on me, guys. Sorry.

Grown-Up Christmas List



In a word: Schmaltzy.

Select lyrics:
No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.
And everyone would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my grown-up Christmas list.
Defining characteristics: Naïve, saccharine worldview, an intro so tinkly and echoey you just know some hardcore cheesiness is about to occur.

Evaluation: Like "The Man With the Bag," this song seems a wee bit confused about the whole Santa vs. God thing. Just to clear things up: Santa's in charge of gifts. His jurisdiction ends there. If it cannot be gift-wrapped, hauled into a sleigh, and lobbed down a chimney, Santa just ain't dealing with it. Explain to me how this man is supposed to gift wrap an end to all wars--or, more accurately, a never-beginning to all wars. That is a serious metaphysical conundrum. Unless the TARDIS shows up in your living room on Christmas morning with a big fat bow on top, I don't see how he's supposed to make this work for you.

Also, this line happens:
What is this illusion called the innocence of youth?
Well, I don't know, Jacques Derrida, you tell me. You seem to have the answers for everything else. The next line goes on to postulate that "[m]aybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth," which seems to imply that the innocence of youth is actually a thing and therefore not an illusion, as previously claimed. Is the illusion of the innocence of youth an illusion in and of itself? What is "youth"?! Is this entire song an illusion?!?! I DON'T WANT TO THINK THIS HARD ABOUT MY CHRISTMAS MUSIC!


§


Final verdict: Sort of an abbreviated contest today on account of my laziness and the fact that I really want to spend the rest of my evening eating cookies and watching Sleepy Hollow (don't judge, it's far better than it has any business being, given its whackadoodle premise), but rest assured that I have plenty more to say about My Grown-Up Christmas List, which is moving on to the next round on the strength of its self-satisfied faux humanitarianism. "Believe" gets a pass. Play me out, JoGro.



Tomorrow: "Marshmallow World" takes on Streisand's version of "Jingle Bells" in what should prove to be a very, very tough contest, as both are skull-splittingly annoying.

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